


Writing's On The Wall

by tabbytabs



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Drugs, I'm Bad At Tagging, Maybe include sexual content, Multi, Violence, cursing, other stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbytabs/pseuds/tabbytabs
Summary: Inspired by an rpg I was in, this is a Mafia! Hamilton AU in which you have The Blue Bloods, The Opposition, The Revelations, and The Revolutionaries. Here you will follow Benedict Arnold, learning about his treason, and more. WARNING: There are probably going to be more triggers than what I put in the tags.





	Writing's On The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is an AU don't expect completely accurate portrayals.

"Rise and shine Benedict. We have work to do." 

 

_Dammit. It's daylight._

 

Benedict wasn't the type to sleep at his "job" but it was a long night at the casino. Sure, long nights of gambling were fun. That is, if you weren't the dealer, or the security, or the bartender. All of these Benedict did, but he mostly dealt cards. It was a special task asked of him by the King, otherwise known as King George William Fredrick. Benedict worked in a network of spies of sorts. He had plenty of tricks up his sleeves for picking out enemies and unwanted company to the gang. Most nights if anyone went to the casino, Benedict would be at a poker table or something ( trying not to make it a reoccurring trend, but the King demands satisfaction ) and making some unlucky guy the luckiest man in the world at that moment. By the end of the night though, all those poker chips, all that money, would be back in Benedict's hands to use over again, maybe even take.

But that's if he decided to get up.

 

"Dammit Arnold if you don't get the fuck up I'm kicking your ass!" The same voice scowls at him before Benedict is raising his head and opening half-lidded, tired eyes. He gives a gruff growl at the person who awoke him. "I'm up! Damn James, I'm not your wife." He snaps, standing and shaking off his fogginess. James Reynolds, that damn woman beater. He isn't new to the gang, neither is his wife Maria. They joined The Blue-Bloods months before Benedict did, for the same reasons, only not the same way. And poor Maria, she has to deal with that shithead of a husband, of a person really. Nobody in the gang really likes him, he's more of an asshole than Benedict is, which is saying quite a bit considering Benedict's reputation. "You better watch your mouth Arnold. Remember, you don't have shit to your name here anymore." James's tone held just as much fire and venom to it as a dragon from hell, it always did. His tone didn't change for anyone or anything except The King and his clients. His voice was either neutral or sickeningly sweet with them. If Benedict were making biblical references here, James was a demon, and him? Well he was...

 

"James, Seabury wanted to talk to you about something..." That sweet voice, Maria's, ringing like a quiet angel through the room. Full of life, yet full of fear. Benedict couldn't be fooled by it though, there's no way King George would've let her in the gang if she couldn't pull her own weight and handle herself. James narrows his eyes at both her and Benedict and storms away, like usual. Benedict sighs, briefly wondering how in the hell someone like James Reynolds got paid more than he did and he didn't do anything but sell his wife to any buyer that paid enough- well that was probably it. He would keep some money for himself and give the majority to the King. "I'm sorry Benedict. He-" Maria's voice is soon interrupted by a huff and a head shake, "We've been over this Maria. Your asshole husband treats everyone that way. It's a shame that such a kind woman got married to such a prick." He walks off after that statement. That probably wasn't the best thing to say to her, but the two of them had a certain way of being honest with each other that they could say anything and the other wouldn't be offended. Maria was the closest thing he had to his old friendships. Well, her and then there was Charles Lee but he was a different story.

 

This man's daily duties consisted of firstly, cleaning the casino, which was a shit job of course. Secondly, he'd  make his rounds, checking the card tables even if he wasn't going to be there that night. He'd also occasionally ask security of they'd seen any suspicious people. He'd also ask security if they'd seen any suspicious characters that were obvious to spot. People who wear flashy clothing and loitered around the casino are typically the ones under close watch. Luckily for Benedict, Maria fixed the tables for him, thank God, so all he had to was sweep, mop, and wax. If he wasn't called for any other reason or duties, he was free to go.

 

_Why in the living fuck couldn't those damn useless hunks of uptight ass security jockeys do this?_

 

Benedict is old, he shouldn't be doing this. Well he's like 43, He's a little younger than King George and Washington, and he's older than Thomas Jefferson, making Benedict one of the top five oldest of all the gang members in New York City. He would push back the thoughts, but with old age comes long term things, like his old friends. Oh those were fond memories. If he thought too long he'd find himself missing those times, those people. God how he missed Washingto-

 

"Benedict...since when did you become a clean freak?" Charles suddenly chimed between Benedict's thoughts. Thank the heavens he did, he almost had a thought he didn't want to have. He looks at the broom in his hand and the floor around him. Spotless, and Charles Lee was mopping up around the places he swept. Funny, he couldn't even remember grabbing the broom. Was he so immersed in his thoughts that he zoned out and let his body go into auto pilot? Or is he just that old? "Since never Charles." He retorts, too hard to pick out if he meant that in a friendly way or snappy like how he is with everyone else. Charles Lee, a traitor of the Revolutionaries. Charles had been apart of the Blue Bloods long before Benedict had. He was kicked out for talking shit about Washington, and then retreating when he was given orders to attack a rival gang. Charles didn't exactly deserve a punishment as harsh as that for what he had done, but Benedict thinks the shit talking is what really got him there. They were both considered the same thing, traitors. Charles held more of an innocence to him than Benedict had though. If Benedict were making biblical references here, Washington would be Jesus, his followers the disciples, and Benedict?

 

He was Judas.

 

And he was constantly reminded of that. The man who traded out his gang for a higher rank and more money. Benedict had his reasons, more than money and a rank, he always told himself he didn't need to explain anything to anyone, so he never defended himself against that. He still hated himself for that mistake, but when he truly thinks about it, he feels he is better off with the choice he has already made, despite losing the closest thing he'd ever have to something like what he had with Washington. The man was a brother and father all in one for Benedict, something he came to realize, working closely with the man, that he needed. He'd never admit that though, not to anyone and not even to the God to whom he tried to bring his faith unto ( if he didn't already know that higher power would also already know his heart ). He wasn't exactly religious, but he grew up in Christianity, liking to think there was some higher power that had his back, something good he could follow in this cruel and treacherous world in which he placed himself. But he couldn't really make himself believe that wholeheartedly, because instead of following the righteous path, he became that snake that got cast out of Eden, that Cain to the Abel of the Revolutionaries, that murderous, hateful Saul to Washington's followers, and the Judas to Washington himself.

 

Honestly, there couldn't have been anyone shittier, except James. He told himself often he was a bad person but James is worse, so he could cope with his choice a little longer. That's how he gets through his days and nights, _just a little longer_. "Benedict, hey, that's enough. The king said go home." There was a hard pat on Benedict's shoulder, and he found himself staring at the bar counter he was wiping. Charles had snapped him out of his thoughts again, he couldn't keep letting that happen. Someone might think he's becoming distracted. "Are you going home too?" Benedict asks, mostly to see if there was anyone else going to finish up around the place, since he was allowed to leave that early. "Nah. Old King Cole says there's something important for you to do tonight, so he wants you to go home. He says...you need to quote on quote 'get out the house for a little bit." Charles replies, leaning over the counter as Benedict did. They talked as if they were friends, but they didn't trust each other. Mentally, they both decided it was a mutual thing. "Shit...does he plan on doing a raid?" Charles raises a brow at Benedict's question, giving him one of those 'What do you think?' kind of looks. A sigh leaves him, dropping head down as he closes his eyes. Charles seems a bit amused by this, chuckling as he gave Benedict one last pat to his shoulders and walking away. That asshole, he probably was happy, because if Benedict got to go out, that means Charles got to stay. Benedict didn't like leaving the casino and being forced out into the real world, kinda like that teenager that never likes to leave their room not even to pee, bathe, and eat.

 

He raises his head and removes himself from the bar counter he was wiping down, walking behind it and tossing the rag in a laundry bin for Maria to deal with later. Except there were no other rags in there, she must've taken them out already. There were times Benedict was glad to have Maria around, one of the reasons being she took care of allot of things that nobody really notices, like the rags and towels for the bartenders, the tables for the card dealers, hell she even cleaned the slot machines from time to time. But it was times like this Benedict wished she didn't work so damn fast. He'd have to go put it in the casino's washing machine himself now. It wasn't that long of a walk since he could just throw it in the washing machine in the kitchen and Maria just return the rag to its usual spot. He was just lazy, and he knew there would be plenty of people along the way he didn't want to see. He sucks it up though and grabs his things, just a dufflebag with his work clothes in it and food, because there was no way in hell he was paying those kinds of prices for casino food that the wrong person might just spit in.

 

He walks up a few flights of stairs to the buffet, just for exercise, before he makes it the kitchen. There a few waiters and waitresses cleaning the dining tables near the buffet, and cooks moving around behind the serving counters that separated the kitchen from the other buffet tables. He quickly makes his way behind the serving counter that led to the kitchen. The washing machine was within a short distance now, being next to the sink where the waiters washed the dishes. He makes it there without being bothered, despite the looks that he got, opening the washing machine and throwing his rag in. Every thing was going surprisingly well this morning, how odd. 

 

He goes ahead and makes his way to the back exit of the casino, the place where employees park at of course. He's going down the flight of stairs where the emergency exit is. It was a multipurpose exit though, good for smuggling in people and things, and there was a vending machine nearby since the employees break room was on one of the bottom\\-most floors close to the parking garage. It's on that flight of stairs where he runs into Maria again. She's standing near the vending machines, rummaging through a small coin purse she has, probably trying to buy those stale cheddar crackers she adores so much. Benedict walks up to her, and she jumps when she notices he's there. "You have to stop prowling around like a cat Mr.Arnold..." She says, placing a hand over her heart and taking a few breaths before she continues gathering change. "It's Benedict, Maria. And you wouldn't have been scared if you'd listen around," He retorts, watching her rummage a little more through that little purse before he sets his dufflebag down and starts digging through it, "Need some help?" Maria isn't paying attention to him, really just trying to accumulate another quarters worth in change so she could buy those crackers, "No no! I'm fine I just need another quarter." Meanwhile Benedict is pulling out a turkey sandwich with honey oat wheat bread, cut in half, out of his bag. His little sister made it for him, but he was so busy he didn't have time to eat.

 

He gently hits her arm to catch her attention, making the woman turn to him and smile. However, she shook her head at him and attempted to push it away. "No Benedict I couldn't possibly..." For some reason he sentence fades out, and she looks down, "I couldn't...I wouldn't...James...I really have to watch what I eat..." . Benedict nonetheless continues to try to hand her the the sandwich. "Maria, take the sandwich. If James has something to say, let me deal with it. You need to eat, screw the weight watching." He say, taking her hand and placing the sandwich in it. Despite her previous protest, Maria seems grateful. "Thank you, Benedict." She says with a small gracious bow. Benedict nods, and all of a sudden he hears that asshole's voice calling for Maria, and footsteps coming down the stairs. Maria looks panicked, but the facial expression on Benedict's face puts her at ease somewhat. 

 

"What is that?" James snaps at his wife, moving towards her and Benedict as if he was about to charge at her. Maria was a too scared to give an answer, so before James could get too close to her, Benedict stops him by putting a forceful hand on his shoulder. "It's a sandwich James. Nothing to get your balls in a bunch for." Benedict growls, glaring at the man before his hand is aggressively shoved away. James, at this point, looks like he's ready to kick Benedict's ass. Except the fact he wouldn't, Benedict had too much experience being by Washington's side that gave him the upper hand on street fighters like James. That didn't stop the male from grabbing him and shoving him against the wall. Maria gives a shriek but it's shortened when she slaps her hands over her mouth. James is about to say something to Benedict, he's so close Benedict could feel his rage just burning off of his body. What stops him is someone clearing their throat, catching both of men's full attention. There on the stairs was Samuel Seabury, the King's second in command and James had just been caught fucking up. 

 

"James, Benedict, what's going on here?" He asks, arms crossed, tapping his foot. 

 

Benedict hated how smug he was, considering that he always needed someone else to protect him because he couldn't really fight. He always rubbed his power in everyone's faces too, very quick to remind anyone that he was King George's favorite above all. James lets go of Benedict, glaring at him like he was going to kill him before he backed away and stepped in front of Maria. Everyone remained silent, and it was at this time Benedict noticed Charles was behind Samuel. "I asked a question." Samuel's tone was at the kind he uses to warn people he's about to go snitch to the King. "Nothing. Nothing is going on." Benedict answers, since James wasn't in the place to answer. Samuel switches his gaze over to Maria, giving her a small head tilt. "Is everything alright here, Maria?" He asks to her specifically. Obviously, whatever James or Benedict had to say, it didn't matter to Seabury, because apparently Benedict wasn't willing to rat James out, and Samuel wouldn't pester Maria long enough to make her tell him what happened. "Y-Yes...everything is fine." Her voice was calmed to her normal one, though she looked frightened, but she always looked like that whenever the group of men where all together in a tense bubble. "Are you on break?" Maria nods, "I was just about to leave with James."

 

Samuel nods and looks back to Benedict. "The king says to be back by 6 today. So you should go home and get as much sleep as you can." With that, Samuel starts walking back up the flight of stairs. When he was out of sight, James grabbed Maria's wrist roughly, and dragged her with him. Maria gave Benedict a quick glance before disappearing off with her husband, leaving him and Charles. He sighs and gently taps the back of his head against the wall. "You know he's still gonna get it." Charles tells him, leaning against the railway of the stairs. Benedict sighs in response, "He shouldn't have been an idiot and attacked me." Charles starts to walk over to the vending machines, going to the soda ones and sticking loose change in it. "What did you do that had him so pissed?" A loud thud comes from the machine, signalling Charles to grab his Dr.Pepper. "I gave Maria something to eat, and then got in the way when he looked like he was about to hit her."

 

"You know he starves her. He claims it's to keep her body suitable for the clients." Charles tells him, opening the can and drinking it. Something about that seems to tick Benedict off, but he already knew what James did to Maria. Everyone did. "I know, the fucking asshole..." Benedict moves away from the wall now, going over and picking up his dufflebag. Charles holds his arm out, the two men giving a little bit of a forearm handshake. "Go home and sleep. God knows you'll need it." Charles says, and Benedict nods. "You're only saying that because you don't have to go out in the field. You probably set that up you dick." The comment makes Charles laugh. "You know me so well. See ya Benedict." Benedict does a little wave before he walks out of the exit.

 

 He hails a cab to his apartment in a better part of New York City. It's not lavish, but it's also not that lavish. He couldn't wait to crash out on his couch, he'd forgotten how tired he actually was. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the door, opening it and walking in. He sits his dufflebag down by the door and literally falls onto the couch. His apartment isn't exactly small but it's one bedroom and one bathroom. It's really nice by design and interior, nothing rinky-dinky. It was a new apartment too, and he and he sister had made it look like it costed more than what it did to live there, which was already pretty high because they lived in New York. His sister, Hannah, comes in, chuckling at him and going over to his dufflebag. She digs through it, most likely because she's going to wash his clothes. "Long day?" She asks, picking up the clothes and carrying them over to the closet that had the washer and dryer in it. Benedict grumbles in response, nodding while she comes over and sits on him. He gives a grunts, laying there limbly. "I noticed you ate your sandwich Benedict." She says, looking down at his shut eyes. "I gave it to Maria." He says, sighing and shifting around to get comforted to Hannah's weight. "Oh that little lady friend you won't tell me about?" She teases, getting off of him and going to the kitchen to get something for herself.

 

"Hannah oh my god she's _married_...and I'm too old."

 

Hannah is Benedict's little sister, and all he has left of his family. His mom died while they were young, his dad was a stupid drunk, and his other siblings didn't live long enough to grow up. So he did his best in school, and did his best help raise Hannah. She was his purpose in life, she was the reason he works just a little longer, _lives_ _just a little longer_. She's currently in college, trying to finish getting her master's degree so she can move out of New York and get a decent job working in the medical field, though she told him he might want to join the military. She's pretty close to finishing, she just needs money to buy her materials, and to pay off some of that debt she'll have after she graduates. She only has just a little longer. Just a little longer until she's able to get away from this hell hole.

 

And that's why Benedict keeps at his job, and he does what he does, just until he can. It pays well enough. It pays better than the business that his father tried to make him take up, doing illegal smuggling and deals that caused his father to get murdered when one went terribly wrong, shutting the business completely down and leaving Benedict and his sister to fend for themselves. Hannah didn't know that though, she thinks it was just a really bad car accident, and she didn't know how Benedict got his money. She never asked about it either, probably because she figured it was illegal crimes that could get him killed just like their father. She worried about him, he knew that, but she'd always done that.

 

"Right, right, okay Benedict. Just saying, you talk about her like how you talked about that Washington guy." Oh god now she was bringing him up. He just wants to sleep, nothing more, nothing less. Just peaceful, blissful sleep. "Don't bring him up," He groans out, flipping onto his side to face toward the back of the couch, "What time is it?" Hannah turned on the TV when she came back to the living room, munching on a bag of chips. "If I didn't know you liked girls a little more, I'd think you were in love wi-"

 

"Hannah...the time..." He scowls. "It's 11:45...geez." She replies, curling up in the chair in which she comfortably sat. Benedict sighs with relief, "I'm going to sleep." And with that he went to sleep.

 

When he woke up, he groaned, he wanted to keep sleeping, but he knew he'd better get his ass up. His clothes were neatly folded where his sister was sitting before he went to sleep with a note stating she left for work. He'd forgotten that she had part time night shift job, and he wondered if she tried to wake him before she left. None of that mattered now though. He sits up from his resting position from the couch, slouching as he motivated himself to get up to go shower. It was only then that he realized that his body kind of ached. It's probably from the events of last night. He remembered that he had to personally deal with a drunk that was getting a little too pushy with a few women at the bar near his card table. He actually had to beat the shit out of the guy and leave him out in the street, which was fine because it's not like Benedict rendered him unconscious. Somebody hailed a cab for him to take him to a motel.

 

Hopefully that shower would wash away that event, and wash away his distractions and old thoughts. He started to see himself having old thoughts and distractions more often than not recently. Maybe it's because people who step in the casino nowadays have familiar faces. Maybe King George was right, he did need to get out of the house. A little fresh air, a little 

heist to get his adrenaline pumping should cure him of being stir crazy. Yes this would do him some good, and he figured he should be happy the man even considered him to do the job. Benedict may be skilled in the art of robbery, thievery, and deceit, but that came with a price that crippled his chances of advancing all the time. He wasn't trusted to do much outside of the casino where he wouldn't have as many eyes on him unless Samuel or James tagged along, and this time it seemed like neither one of them would be. He'd get paid more then.

 

" _Stop thinking._ "

 

He says this aloud as he looks himself in the mirror. He stares at himself, inspecting his body. He's picking the reflection apart in the mirror. His hair is a mess from when he was sleeping on the couch, being tousled from shifting and moving about in his sleep. His eyes looked tired, but they felt lighter than they did earlier in the morning. With a sigh, he starts ridding himself of his clothes, starting with his white buttoned down shirt. He can see the scars that decorated his chest even with just a few buttons undone. Each one marked its spot from years and years of bloody battles. He wasn't out of shape either, he couldn't afford to be. However, his body looked worn and torn but not old. Benedict definitely didn't look his age, having the features of a man in his mid 30s. Once he was done with getting rid of the rest of his clothes, he hops in the shower, cleaning away the dirt on his body, the dirt in his mind, and attempting to clean the dirt from his soul beneath the warm water that rained on his skin and this specific soap that seemed to gain him the attraction of unwanted company.

 

"  _Stop thinking._ "

 

He couldn't though, no matter how many times he said it to himself. The smell reminds him of days with his precious Peggy Shippen. Other than Hannah, she was the greatest thing he'd ever had in his life. Those were happy days, but they were too short and went by too quick, as everything but "work" seemed to these days. He closes his eyes and sticks his face under the water to cleanse away that thought just as quick and brief as it crossed his mind. He gives a frustrated grunt and gets out of the shower. It didn't help him like he hoped it would. Within a few minutes he's dressed again, his hair is back in place, his eyes wide awake and face looking miles away from tired. He looks young, like life hasn't strained him the way it has since his mother and father died.

 

He looks at the time and it's 5:45 in the evening. Benedict is content with that, he'd rather be early than late whenever it came to King George's schedule. He packs up the clothes left on the chair by his sister in the duffel bag and decides not to grab food from home. If the king is sending him on a raid, he wouldn’t want to eat too much, just enough to where his stomach wouldn’t rumble. He gets ready to walk out of the door, turning the knob before he pauses and turns back to look around the living room. 

 

There's something he feels like he's forgetting, but he didn't know exactly what it was. He contemplates whether or not he's just going to leave and completely forget about it, but he had a gut feeling about it and decides to rummage through his bag for a second. There's his clothes, a a few sheathed knives, pepper spray courtesy of his sister's own forgetful mind leaving it everywhere, and... That's missing.

 

Benedict walks to Hannah's room, and thankfully it's clean so he wouldn't have to lecture her anytime soon. Under her mattress, hidden away, is their father's old handgun, an AMT Hardballer, silver with the engraving in cursive letters "Hannah" as dedication to his mother. He inspects the gun to see if his little sister has found it and tampered with it, but he finds that after a few moments, he's lingering on the name carved into the gun's metal. He feels his heart ache as he sighs and checks the magazine of the gun to see if it was loaded. Once he saw that it was, he pushes the mag back in place, along with any thoughts of his mother. He hopes the thoughts would stay subsided because he needed to focus and stop thinking about the world around him and the past he always finds himself chained to. Often times he wondered what life would've been had his mother and other siblings had lived longer. He wonders if his dad would have still became a drunk, if he still would have ran his business, and if maybe him and Hannah would have had a better life than the one they are stuck in.

 He couldn't change things, and that brought him back to reality. The only way now to get them out of the mess they were in was to move forward, whether it be through Hannah's two jobs or Benedict's dirty work. With that thought, and nothing else keeping him to the apartment, he walks back to the door and pulls out his keys. He sticks the gun in his duffel bag after making sure the safety was on before leaving out of his door and locking it. He hails a cab back to the casino, staring out of the window the entire way there. He decides while he has the peace, he should clear his mind from all distractions. He needed every amount of focus and energy he could muster up to get through his raid, considering it had been a while since he went on one.Before he knew it, he's at the casino, and hopefully the cab ride helps him through the night. 

The first person he sees after paying for the cab is Charles near the back door of the casino, who was grinning widely at him as he walked up to him. "Are you ready Benedict?" He asks, wrapping an arm around the male and walking with him inside. Benedict grunts in return and narrows his eyes at Charles. "You're not coming with me, and neither is James. So no, I'm not." He says. Benedict didn't trust anyone other Charles really to get the job done right, and maybe James on certain occasions but he'd have to argue and fight the man to get something done. Anyone else was pretty much useless to Benedict since no one else trusted him enough to listen to him and he always worked with mediocre goons. 

"Aw, I'm special to you. That means allot coming from you. You getting soft there Arnold?" Charles teases, punching him in the chest a little harder than intended. Benedict in turn gasps and holds his chest for a moment before growling and moving away from him, "Shut up..." Charles probably isn't sorry for hitting Benedict that hard, at least to what Benedict thinks but it doesn't matter to him either. Charles seemed to be the only person that didn't royally piss him off to great extents. Maybe it was because they both had the word 'treason' in common. 

They are now walking through the halls of the casino where only the employees are allowed, and it's this moment when Benedict begins to wonder why Charles is even with him. "The king wanted to speak to you before you left, but the rest of the team is ready." He says and guides Benedict through the halls, ones of which he hadn't been before. When he thought about it, he never really talked to the king in a person. The only exception was the first time they met, when Benedict turned on his former gang and spilled everything the king wanted to know. Samuel and Maria usually relayed messages to the rest of them, so he figured he had to have to the king's trust in order to see him in his office. He didn't feel like he had it though, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it was a plan to kill him off somehow.

They approach a door and Charles now puts some distant between him and Benedict, gesturing to the door. "See you in the morning Benedict. And good luck with whatever you have to do." He says before leaving. Benedict quirks a brow at him before Charles turns and leaves. He sighs and turns back towards the door, taking a breath, and knocking on it. A few moments pass before the door opens, revealing Samuel giving Benedict a hard stare before stepping aside and tilting his head as a gesture for him to proceed. Slowly, Benedict makes his way in, and for some reason the room is dark, with only a lamp on a distant desk to shine any light. There's a person sitting at the desk, his back facing Benedict. He could tell it was King George the closer he stepped to the desk and he didn't realize it too quickly, but the closer he got, the more anxiety grew in him.

"Benny, it's been a while." The king says with amusement in his tone, turning in his seat to face Benedict with a wide, playful smile. Somehow, he suppresses the shudder that emerged when the king called him Benny, and terror that came when he looked at him. There are very few people that could actually scare Benedict to the point of submission and King George was among those people. He had episodes where only Samuel could calm him down, ones where he's go crazy and have mental breakdowns over his wife and kids that passed away. He was sadistic and borderline insane, and it unnerved Benedict to be this close in his presence. 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" He asks, as politely and formally as any loyal soldier. This makes the king chuckle and tilt his head at Benedict. "So formal," He coos, "But yes, I did. When you go on this little raid, I want you to look for something specific. Something...very valuable." King George stands and starts walking around his desk over to Benedict, sliding his hand over a piece of paper that had a picture of a red gem on it and grabbing it. He looks at it before holding it up to show Benedict. "I'm looking for this pretty little thing. Think you could be a good boy and find it for me?" He continues, his voice light and playful. Little to Benedict's pleasure, the king grabs his jaw gently in his hand, and smiles sinisterly at him. Benedict holds his breath, and shows the king his best blank face, refusing to show any signs of terror with him from the touch. "Of course, sir." He responds, without a beat. This make the king smile in response and pat Benedict's cheek, "Good because I really want it. If you find something else of worth, don't be afraid to grab it either. The rest of your group knows the rest of the details but only you are allowed to touch anything dealing with that red stone, understand. Now ta ta."

 

Benedict couldn't hate his team even more. They were now in a house, a lavish one at that, and his teammates were acting like complete four year olds. They kept touching unnecessary things, and joking around like they weren't trying to steal things. Benedict focused mostly on his own task, looking around for anything that had to do with that red gem. He's checked the living room and a few bedrooms in the two stripy house, so he figured he'd try and look for an office. He doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings, they didn't matter to him as long as he found what he was looking for. After a few doors with empty promises, he stumbles upon what looks like a mini library but it's close enough to an office. There's a desk with messy papers all around on it, and Benedict sighs before checking his watch. They've been there for 30 minutes which is far too long, so Benedict quickly gets to work sorting through the papers. They all look like receipts and letters to other seemingly rich people from an unknown source, so none one of them have his interest. Moving forward, he checks inside the desk to some promising files. He scans through them, and the gem seems to be a popular thing. His eyes see a picture of the gem that the king had, and he picks it up. Looking over it, he flips it over on the back. He narrows his eyes once he reads the name to which the picture is sent to.

 

To Philip Schuyler:

Think King George could get his hands on this?

 

"Philip Schuyler?!" At the moment Benedict says this in his head, he hears a gunshot and a scream, followed by a female voice. 

"Honey, I'm home."


End file.
